


The Trouble with Klingons (Knocking on Your Door)

by Yashiko61



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashiko61/pseuds/Yashiko61
Summary: Jim, Bones and the crew of the Enterprise have a string of bad luck as they set out on their first long patrol following the events of Star Trek Beyond.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr. Set sometime after STB but no big spoilers that couldn’t be figured out from the trailer.

Jim was having a terrible day. No, week, month, whatever. The newly built replacement Enterprise had been sent out, as Bones put it, to “Travel along the whole god-damned length of the damned Klingon-Federation border, in order to attract every damned possible threat on this side of the galaxy, as divine punishment from the Admiralty for getting the previous ship destroyed.” End quote.

He wasn’t too far from the truth. 

They were on week 4 of what was proving to be the patrol most likely to destroy a brand-new starship. Jim, as much as he hate to admit it, was looking so forward to the day they would next get detoured to survey some nebula or something. He might be selfish, but it would 99% be because he would finally be guaranteed a full night’s sleep.

They had managed to find, on their travels along the border zone, every random Klingon patrol, miscreant, pirate, hostile trader and anyone else who might have reason to randomly attack a Federation starship ten times it’s size. Seriously. The Klingons either had no control over their own side of the border, or just didn’t care, but the one or two attacks per day was all getting utterly ridiculous. 

Everyone on the Enterprise was tired to the point of exhaustion. The record in the last three weeks for time spent between red alerts was a pathetic 35 hours. Jim was sure that Scotty was going to stage a mutiny soon with his hoard of irate engineers, and Uhura had passed on that the reason Spock was late to report on one incident about a week ago was that he had been so deeply asleep that she was actually convinced he had gone into a healing trance instead, but that with enough time and persistence, a sternum rub _could_ bring a Vulcan back awake. Jim was afraid to ask who had recommended that course of action to her, but he knew better than to actually voice that thought.

Bones had taken to sleeping on his office couch when he could, but had been caught at one point sleeping face down on a biobed, sleeves still pushed up to his elbows. He had attempted to demand extra medical staff but only won himself hysterical laughter from Jim and the response that the only time anyone was going to get adequate coverage was when they finally finished this patrol from hell.

Which brought them to this day, when they coasted into a system with a scattering of planets, only one of which was remotely close to being, but really not M class. Sensors had suggested that there might be some raw materials of interest, which if they had noticed, the Klingons would have too. Bones and his staff had finally mostly caught up on treating all the crew, and he had stormed off after the daily senior staff briefing to spend some time in his own quarters for once. Probably sleeping, based on his pointed remarks that “no one had better wake me up unless they have food or the ship is on fire.” Jim pointed out that a year ago he might have said “unless there are Klingons at the front door” but just got a dirty look for his attempt at humour. At least he tried.

Needless to say, the science department went into high gear, knowing their window of opportunity was only as long as their string of luck, and they reported that even though said not-really-M-class planet was not inhabitable now, it had potential for terraforming _and_ a strong likelihood of some dilithium deposits. Which made the planet instantly of interest to the Federation. And their Klingon friends.

Jim sent off their report, and they sat in orbit until the Admiralty ordered them to investigate the planet further. They were fairly far from the nearest star base, but dilithium was so valuable that the Federation was willing to jump through a lot of hoops if needed to secure it. He had a small survey group nearly ready to go down, when sure enough, a group of three small vessels, raiders of some Klingon design, popped into the system, and decided that the Enterprise was a sitting duck ready for the taking. 

Now, either the Klingons were either starting to actually share intelligence with each other, or this group was just lucky, but they managed to concentrate their attacks to more vulnerable sections of the ship. Jim had the unfortunate task of waking up Bones, who repeated his demands from earlier in the day about food or fire, and Jim just shrugged when the alert went out that a fire had broken out somewhere in the ship and Bones stormed past him on the way to the med bay, blue tunic in hand. If they got through this ridiculous patrol from hell, Jim had a case of the best bourbon he could mail order waiting at Starbase 5 for them. They both deserved it.

Jim had left the conn in the capable hands of the alpha shift crew, who were becoming all to used to what needed to be done in these instances, and instead went down to the dorsal section. Scotty was preoccupied in main Engineering, but one of the fire fighting crews bustled past Jim, and he followed behind, grabbing a rebreather mask and fire-retardant coveralls. These crews too had become rather well practised, Jim noted, but there was only so many. There was CO2 and nitrogen based fire suppression systems throughout the ship. These were preferred over more toxic gases or venting the atmosphere from sections of the ship, but deploying any of the systems would mean that any crew left behind in a section without a breathable air supply would suffocate. A section behind them sealed and the klaxon warned any remaining staff to evacuate, and Jim noted that the rebreather switched from a filter mode to drawing fully on his oxygen supply when the bulkhead reopened a few minutes later and the atmosphere turned too dangerous for humans.

He worked with the fire crew until he got a call from the bridge saying that there was extensive damage near the rear end of Deck 7 due to more fires there. That end of the ship was closest to the attachment mechanisms between the saucer and dorsal sections, which wasn’t surprising from a tactical point of view. He left the crew he had been following, and moved to go to the turbolifts when the corridor buckled in front of him due to a hit that had bypassed the shields. 

—-

Up in the med bay, Leonard rushed around with his staff, patching up crew as best they could. It was best to get anyone who could back to their posts, and get back to them for more comprehensive treatment after their emergency (or two) of the day had passed. 

A stronger shudder shook the med bay, and when a console screen shattered and burst into flames, all he could do was order a corpsman to spray the contents of a CO2 fire extinguisher at it and call for a fire crew. But, this being a persistent fire, it continued in spite of those efforts, and Leonard had to order everyone in the room out, with the smoke starting to fill the med bay. He had nearly cleared the room when the ceiling panels above warped enough from the heat and collapsed, knocking him to the ground, pushing the air out of his lungs in a grunt.

The warning klaxon sounded, and the last thing Leonard was able to see was M'Benga and Chapel hurriedly closing bulkhead door before the entire medbay was flooded with a nitrogen and carbon dioxide mix.

—

M'Benga had sent Chapel and everyone except one crewman away from the med bay doors, telling them to move towards the secondary med bay if safe. They retrieved their rebreather masks from the emergency cabinet, and waited for the two minute countdown to finish. Opening the doors sooner could accidentally reignite the fire once oxygen re-entered the space. When the doors re-opened, they were greeted to a cold, smoke filled room, and Dr McCoy laying prone on the floor. They managed to move the ceiling panel off of him, and sealed an emergency respirator on his face before pulling him towards the door. The ship continued to shudder at intervals, and when the bridge called down, the order to evacuate off the ship made M'Benga’s blood run cold. 

“They are attempting to board the ship, anyone with significant injuries should take an escape pod.”

Chapel had also gotten the message, most of her group of injured crew could fit in a handful of escape pods. A few medical staff would go with them, the others would continue onto the secondary med bay. M'Benga, with the unconscious and now barely breathing Dr McCoy, were closest to the specialized medical escape pods. The corpsman helped M'Benga hoist McCoy’s dead weight up to sit him on the small seat in the closest pod and got the medical respirator going, before securing the harness and sealing the pod’s doors. M'Benga had never once had to use these special pods for their ultimate purpose, but the two of them climbed into their own pods, and soon all three were launched.

It was probably a good thing that McCoy wasn’t conscious for his trip to the planet surface. Even though he too had evacuated once by turbolift turned escape pod with Spock, he had no good feelings towards the experience, and he didn’t even wind up landing in it. The corpsman’s pod had gotten separated from the other two on their descent, and when M'Benga landed, was frustrated to realize that the other man was likely in the next valley over, at least closer to the other escape pods.

The planet had a nitrogen based atmosphere, but with oxygen levels at barely 5 percent, humans would never be able to breathe without supplemental oxygen in spite of nothing else particularly toxic in the air. M'Benga did his best to twist around in the tight capsule to wiggle free the oxygen tank in the pod, and when he pushed open the door, managed to get the survival suit on without dislodging his mask. He grabbed the medical and survival kits, and trekked the kilometre to McCoy’s pod, that dangled just off the ground after the parachute lines had tangled in a tree.

The pod sensors reported that McCoy was stable, breathing on his own, but his O2 stats were still not great and he had enough broken ribs from having the panel drop on him that M'Benga knew that it was best not to remove him from the pod if he could help it.

The communications ensign that took his report when he commed the ship was apologetic, but assured him to wait for assistance once they finished dealing with their Klingon problem.

—

Jim found himself stuck in a corridor section, and although there was a port towards an escape pod to his side, neither other direction looked passable. He tuned into the bridge comm chatter, and was happy to note that they had disabled two of the three Klingon ships already, and the third was trying to dock to the aft airlock. Security crews were on it, but a boarding situation was hardly ideal. When the maintenance port ahead of Jim erupted in flame, he tried to move away, knowing that even if a fire crew was delayed in reaching him the fire suppression system should take over. But when a minute turned into two, then three, and the black smoke filled the space, Jim realized that the system was either already discharged in the area or malfunctioning. 

He called for assistance, but transporters were down to keep the Klingons from taking over that system, and he was told to use the escape pod. The security team had nearly dealt with the would-be boarding party, but for now it was best to join the medical contingent already waiting on the planet’s surface. With a reluctance only tempered with disdain for death by fire, Jim sealed the escape pod doors behind him and ejected from the ship.

This pod was a standard one, meant for multiple crew, but he was sent coordinates for one of the two landing sites the other pods had come down to. On landing, he dug out a survival suit and air supply, and set out, coming to M'Benga’s empty pod before moving on to the other pod in the area. M'Benga sat on the ground, air supply next to his lap, and the doctor startled when he heard Jim approaching.

“It’s me, are you okay?” Jim rushed over.

“I’m okay, just a little shaken,” M'Benga shrugged off Jim’s hands from where they rested on his shoulders lightly. 

“Bones!” Jim noticed Leonard, as he remained strapped into the pod in front of them.

“He’s okay for now, the med bay fire suppression went off after he was knocked down by part of the ceiling collapsing, but he’s about as well as he can be.”

“He’s still out cold?”

“I think he stirred awake a little, but he went without oxygen for a couple minutes before we got him out. I need to get him back to the secondary med bay to see if there is more lasting damage. I only have a general use tricorder in addition to the basic pod biosensors.”

“Enterprise to Kirk,” Jim startled as his was paged from the ship. “Kirk here.”

“Sir, we have disabled the final Klingon vessel. As soon as we can prep a shuttle, we will be sending them down to collect all the crew who had to evacuate.”

“How many in total?”

“About 25, sir. Galileo is heading out in a minute for your location. Do you have any special needs?”

Jim looked at M'Benga, who merely said “full med kit”, and responded, “Just a full med kit, Dr. M'Benga is here to treat anyone else the Galileo takes back up. Make sure to send another full kit down with the other shuttles.”

“Aye sir, ETA 20 minutes to your location.”

“Thank you.”

From within his pod, Leonard started to stir, and startled fully awake when he realized where he was. Jim switched on his local suit-to-suit comm, and tried to calm him down.

“Bones, just relax, we are about to get rescued.” Leonard’s breathing was fast but somewhat shallow.

“Leonard, it’s me, Geoff. You hurt a bunch of your ribs back on the ship, but we need to you to try and relax. It’s freezing cold out here, and we don’t want to take you out of the pod until they come for us right away.”

Something was likely wrong with the microphone in the pod, because although Leonard clearly had heard them, as he tried to control his breathing, neither Jim nor M'Benga could hear him back.

“Just hold on a few more minutes, the shuttle is on its way down.”

Sure enough, not long later the shuttle flew over them before circling back and landing in the nearby clearing. A few operations crew came out, carrying a med kit and stretcher, and they helped them pop open the pod’s hatch and secure Leonard onto a backboard. They zipped up the atmospheric bubble before filling it with a standard air mix, and the light on Leonard’s respirator changed back to green, indicating that it had reverted to supplementation and assist mode. They loaded into the shuttle, and rejoined the remaining crew who had landed in the next valley over, where they and another shuttle picked up the remaining crew.

M'Benga manually inspected Leonard’s ribs as they returned to the ship, and then preemptively sedated Leonard in preparation for treatment. Jim, sitting next to Leonard’s head, merely placed his hand on the edge of the stretcher in silent support.

—

A day later, Leonard had been treated for several broken ribs and his bout of near-asphyxiation before being released from the med bay to recuperate in his quarters. The Enterprise finally secured permission to move away from the border to allow time for repairs and prioritization of work that would require space-dock time, and Jim found himself later that afternoon hiding on Leonard’s couch, reading reports, as Leonard dozed on his bed.

The Admiralty initially indicated that they expected the Enterprise to return to their patrol route once the immediate repairs were complete, but Jim had spent the better part of a couple hours arguing that any patrols should require at least three ships, given how bold the Klingons had been at making their presence known in any system along the border.

Stretching his back, Jim looked back towards the bed when he heard Leonard try to roll over, grunt slightly in discomfort before reluctantly rolling back to his previous position. Although the ribs were mostly healed, M'Benga had said they would likely be tender for a few days still, and Jim had promised to keep Leonard from doing anything silly for at least one more day. Leonard had, by and large, used this as an excuse to sleep.

As the afternoon rolled to an end, the door chime buzzed to reveal a yeoman delivering a meal for the two of them. Jim set down the trays on the small table, and sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking Leonard’s shoulder lightly. Leonard groaned a little and muttered at Jim. “There had better either be food or a fire….”

“Or Klingons at the door.” Leonard’s eyes shot open, momentarily on edge.

“It’s food, Bones. I delivered the other two yesterday, remember?”

“That’s not funny, Jim,” Leonard grumbled, as he sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Of course it is a little funny. Want to freshen up a little before you eat?”

“No, I just need to pee,” he mumbled as he stood up stiffly and moved into the small bathroom, door sliding shut behind him. Jim popped open the tabs on the warming lid, and had the food mostly laid out when Leonard came out and sat down at the table. The mess had sent up a simple meal of a chicken salad and some soup. By the time they finished, Leonard already looked like he could sleep for another day again, but Jim got an old holovid set up and joined Leonard on the couch a minute later with mugs of tea. Jim read over the package that M'Benga sent Leonard home with and handed over one of the mild painkiller tablets to help ease the discomfort of the healing ribs.

Jim fiddled with his PADD at one point while the vid played, skimming through the latest engineering report on the repairs. The primary med bay was mostly cleared up already, although two panels would require replacement at a star base, along with replacement of the escape pods they used already.

“We really have a knack for attracting trouble, don’t we,” Leonard wondered out loud, peering over Jim’s shoulder.

“The Admiralty sure would like to think so. They were really surprised how much trouble this patrol would be for us. New ship, good armaments, et cetera, et cetera. But, we’re only one vessel, one crew. With mostly science labs, rather than weaponry. Even after the whole fiasco with Khan and Marcus, they are want us to be scientists and explorers first.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“For sure, but I just hope that the last month has shown that the Federation needs to ramp up its efforts to work with the Klingons, otherwise we could find more of the border colonies at risk.”

Leonard looked at Jim, who again was half-heartedly trying to watch the vid, and sighed. “There is never a good answer, but I doubt that even hundreds of heavy warships patrolling this zone would fix anything.”

“You’re right.” They both fell into a contemplative silence. When the vid eventually ended, Jim stood up, and placed his hand on Leonard’s warm shoulder. 

“Well, I have to be on shift at 0800 again tomorrow, and another full 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep in my own bed sounds too good to pass up, but if you are up to an early breakfast, we can meet in the mess before you go get cleared for duty.”

Leonard started to reply, but instead gave out a long yawn. “Uh sure, yeah, that sounds good.” He levered himself slowly up from the couch and walked stiffly towards the bedroom section. Jim tugged on his boots at the door, and called out as he stepped into the hallway, “Goodnight Bones.”

“Goodnight Jim.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr.
> 
> I pushed this one out over one weekend in a late-night writing blitz fuelled largely by both relief that the first one I posted was well received, and also by a couple glasses of wine (long story). I was a bit surprised when I came back to look at the piece the next day that it wasn’t in as dire need of editing as I feared, but if anyone is interested in doing some beta editing for me going forward (I can reciprocate), it would be much appreciated, especially as I continue work on a longer piece that has been in the works on and off for some time now.
> 
> This may eventually get reworked or expanded on.


End file.
